


i exist i exist i exist

by cephalomancy



Category: South Park
Genre: Gays fall in love in a fuckin psychiatric hopsital, M/M, Self-Harm, attempted suicide, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-08 19:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10394253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cephalomancy/pseuds/cephalomancy
Summary: The four white walls he awoke to every morning for the past few weeks were blinding at this point. Maybe if he kept his eyes shut he would slip back into a sleep long enough to forget where he is. Then again, whenever he sleeps, he just thinks of what got him here in the first place.EDIT - 3/6/18as of right now, this fic is on a ... hiatus?? the reason i stopped writing was bc i moved states and so much has been happening, this fic just isnt a priority to me rn!!!!!! :'o i'll continue writing soon enough, but for rn i have other fic ideas i wanna do





	1. the doctors saved you, but you're still dead

**Author's Note:**

> but you would do anything  
> to destroy the body that they rescued

The bathroom floor spun as he pressed his back to the door. The dizzying feeling came rushing back to him, tunnel vision clouding his sight until he was too weak to stand up on his own.  
  
There was the rushing sound of footsteps, but it sounded echoed. He felt his back slide down against the white bathroom door, drawing in a wheezy inhale. He could hear his name being called. He wasn't sure if it was his mother, his father, or _her_   but the only thing he could rake through his mind was that he wanted to lay down. He wanted to rest.  
  
He fell over onto his side, pulling his legs close to his body and watching the scattered pills on the floor come in and out of his focus. There was that banging. He heard it all of the time. A bellowing, loud bang that made the door shake on its hinges. A bang that was all too familiar to the raven haired boy. He felt himself seize, trying to shrink into himself as if he was an animal trying to protect itself.  
  
He felt safer in the darkness behind his eyelids, knowing he didn't have to look at anything or know what's going on around him.  
  
" _Stan!_ "  
  
He awoke with a jolt. The banging persisted before he heard the heavy hospital door open followed by the sound of quick footsteps. "It's time to get up and meet for breakfast." a female voice told him. He pulled the white sheets closer to his chin, remaining still with his back turned towards the voice.   
  
"Up, now." the female said a second time, voice sounding firmer as she walked off. Stan rolled over onto his back as he listened to the sound of heels fading off just enough until he heard her knock on the door beside his. It was like this every morning. They all had a schedule to follow, every single one of them.  
  
The four white walls he awoke to every morning for the past few weeks were blinding at this point. Maybe if he kept his eyes shut he would slip back into a sleep long enough to forget where he is. But then again, whenever he sleeps, he just thinks of what got him here in the first place.  
  
Finally, he managed to pull himself up into a sitting up position. The floors were a light blue linoleum color with a desk that was screwed to the wall across from his bed which was screwed to the ground. There were bars over his window which just made him feel like he was in a prison, not somewhere he was going to be _helped_. No one ever helped him. It was all the same, no matter if he's involuntarily locked in a ward or sitting at his dinner table with his family, no one was ever there to really help him.   
  


He crawled out of bed, not bothering to tidy it up at all. He sauntered into the bathroom where he brushed his teeth and spent what felt like a good while staring at himself in the mirror. Staring at his ink black, disheveled hair and cerulean hues ― he was always told that he had bags under his eyes but he never noticed how bad they were until he really saw them under the hospitals fluorescent lighting.   
  
The only thing that snapped him out of picking himself apart in his reflection was the sound of rapping on his door yet again. The same nurse from before slipped into his room, looking around before seeing him in his bathroom. "Let's go, we're waiting on you. You need to get your vitals done and take your medication." she said flatly. He made a sound akin to a hum, but he was really just trying to say 'yes, go away' without having to speak. "And make your bed!" she added, turning on her heel and walking out of his room with a fast clip.   
  
  
There were few nurses that he actually liked here. When he said 'few', he couldn't stress enough how little of the hospitals staff that he actually liked. The nurse that had to do rounds to wake everyone up in the morning and also make sure they're in bed at night is a slender, tall woman that can somehow stand to walk around in heels all day long. He didn't care enough about her to know her real name other than it was some stupid, common name.   
  
He pushed out of his bedroom, again not bothering to even so touch his bed as he made his way out into the brightly lit hallway of Ward 3B. He closed his door behind him and pushed his hands into pockets of his navy blue jacket, dressed in a baggy white V-neck and pastel blue pajama bottoms. Mostly everyone just sat in their pajamas here even though the nurses encouraged everyone to get dressed for their day.   
  
He came out of the hallway and into the main area. Off to the side was a decent sized dining area with a few tables (sizable enough for their ward) and beside that was a wall and a clear door where you could see into the group room. Everyone was mostly seated except a few people were lined up at a window ― this was where everyone got their medication, if required. Slowly, Stan managed to get in the back of the line and press his back against the wall.   
  
"Heya, you're Stan, right?" said a voice beside him. Begrudgingly, Stan glanced towards the shorter boy beside him. He was no taller than about 5'0", blonde hair and bright blue eyes with a baby face that the Gerber Corporation would absolutely die over. "Mn," Stan managed, eyes cascading back down to stare at the carpet underneath of him. He tried to keep his answers short with anyone here because, let's be honest, who the fuck comes to a mental hospital in hopes to make friends? Surely, not Stan Marsh.   
  
"I'm Butters! My friend, Eric, told me that you've been on the ward longer than any of the other fellas." he said, seemingly beaming at that statement. They inched forward as the line began to move and Stan gave a small noise. "You must've really done something bad, huh?" Butters persisted, hands tucked behind his back. Stan couldn't help but notice how optimistic and happy Butters sounded when he said all of this.   
  
"I wouldn't say bad," Stan said flatly, "Your friend, _Eric_ , is in here because he tried to strangle his mother, so there's that." Stan raised his eyes a little and before Butters could respond again, he piped up; "It's your turn." he said coldly.   
  
Butters had trouble taking his eyes off Stan for a second before he craned his neck to see that, in fact, there was nobody in front of him. He came up to the window and told his name to the nurse that was working behind the window. "Leopold Stotch," he said, smiling.   
  
...Leopold Stotch. Stan couldn't help but crack a meek smile at the ridiculous sounding name. No wonder he introduced himself as his nickname and not his actual name. When Butters got his medication, he took it and walked off towards the dining area. Stan stepped up to the window and considering how long he's been committed here (Stan likes to refer to it as 'trapped'), the nurse didn't even have to ask for his name. "Good morning," she said, eyes not even having to leave the screen as her fingers danced across the keyboard.   
  
She popped the pills into a small, paper cup and placed it before him. He downed them without having to use any liquid, just wanting to get it over with. The routine he performed every day was honestly just a chore but some days he wonders if it's better here than it was _there_.  
  
  


Turning on his heel, he walked towards a large container with a door that swung open. Inside were sealed trays that were handed to the patients whenever it was time to eat.  A tray was shoved into his hands and he padded away and to his table, slipping into a plastic chair. In the seat across from him was the lanky Kenny McCormick, poking holes into his apple with the plastic fork he adorned in his grasp. Beside him was... actually, Stan had no idea who this kid was.   
  
Kenny raised his eyes from the apple, placing it down and cracking a wide grin at the other. Kenny's constant goofy and perverted attitude concerned Stan but he was never one to speak up on much. "Good morning, beautiful." he said and Stan could feel the grimace come onto his features. "Don't call me that, dude." he said, rubbing his arm.   
  
"Stan, I want you to be nice for once and welcome Kyle." Kenny suddenly said, gesturing towards the ginger sitting beside him. Kyle was a small boy — definitely not as small as Butters but still reasonably short — with rogue, auburn locks and skin so pale you could clearly see the freckles dotting his ashen canvas like a cluster of mocha colored stars. He was still dressed in hospital attire. "Hi," the green eyed boy simply said, voice hushed. Kyle didn't seem as annoying as all of the other people here but Stan was still wary — he was wary of everyone at this point.   
  
Stan nodded, only offering a forced smile. Forcing smiles was a routine to Stan at this point.  
  
There was something about this boy that stood out to Stan. Maybe it was his looks or the way he presented himself or the nagging feeling in the back of Stan's mind that was trying to tell him that maybe there was someone here that he wouldn't want to strangle for once. Maybe it was his posture, or his forest green eyes with the slightest of lighter green flecks in it... Stan shook the feeling, looking over at Kenny once again to ensure he wasn't staring at Kyle for too long.   
  
Even after he took his eyes away, he could still feel the others eyes studying him. Kyle only glanced away when Kenny spoke up again. 

"Poor Kyle here is roomed with Cartman. Hope he doesn't try to strangle you, too." he said.   
  
"What?" Kyle said.

"Nothing," Kenny grinned, leaning back into his plastic chair.  
  
"I have a really bad feeling about him." Kyle said, picking at his eggs before continuing, "Maybe I'm going to try to get my room switched."  
  
"Have you talked to him?" Kenny asked. Stan just watched as the two talked, fumbling with his thumbs under the table and slipping glances every once in a while at the red haired boy. "Yes. I came overnight last night... maybe at about midnight," he said after a moment of thought before giving an annoyed scoff. "What a fucking _prick_."

Stan couldn't help but let out an amused noise.   
  
"No, seriously. Never in my life have I met such a bad person and _never_ have I been able to decipher that about someone in a _single_ night." he placed his fork down, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms across his chest. Stan's cerulean hues glance over to a few tables behind them where Cartman and Butters sat. Cartman was talking to Butters and waving his plastic butter knife around while gesturing towards their table. Not really looking to get into any trouble — as that could mean an even longer stay on the ward — Stan chose to glance down at his lap and say nothing for now.  
  
Besides, knowing Cartman, he was probably making up some story about Kyle. This bothered Stan, but again, he didn't want to risk having to stay cooped up in this stupid place any longer than he has. "...As soon as he found out I was Jewish, he wouldn't shut up. It's like, he fuels himself on—" Kyle's words were cut off and followed with a grunt. The room went silent for a few moments and Stan looked up to see Kyle reaching back to brush his fingers against something wet against the back of his neck.   
  
Then, the sound of a chair legs digging down against the floor as Kyle pushed it out was heard, the roughly 5'3" boy standing up quickly. He turned on his heel, shooting a glare towards the tubby boy. "I'm sorry— _Kahl_ , was it?" said Eric, feigning his sincerity and holding back a giggle which just made his fat cheeks look like two apples. Butters was sitting beside Eric with a wide eyed look, small fingers tapping against the table nervously.   
  
"What's your problem?" Kyle growled.  
  
"Maybe I just don't want heebs plaguing a place where I'm supposed to feel comfortable." his shoulders roll in a shrug, "Sorry, your kind just messes with me...mentally, or whatever." he snorted, a high laugh coming from his lips. Kyle seemed like he was about to approach the other before Stan reached out and wrapped his fingers around the others dainty wrist. "Not worth it." he simply said, pulling him back towards the table. Kyle grumbled and sat down as the head nurse quickly made her way towards the dining area.   
  
"What's going on here?" she said, placing her hands on her wide hips. She was a tall woman with a thin nose and puffy blonde hair. It was clear that she tried to brush it down but it only did worse for her look. She peered over her glasses at the boys when nobody decided to reply, brown eyes landing on Kyle. "I understand that you're new, Kyle, but we all have rules to follow. Every single one of us." she offered a smile. That phrase practically made Stan feel sick. The nurse began glancing towards Eric pointedly. "And you, Eric. I don't want to have to say something to you again."   
  
Eric simply gave a grumble, continuing to eat his food. "As for the rest of you, your morning group is about to begin so make sure you hand your trays back in and get ready."  her lips pulled into a smile yet again, the woman turning around and walking back to the room where the nurses monitored the boys behaviors.   
  
The soft murmur of talking picked up again, some people getting up to put their trays up. Kyle groaned and touched the back of his neck again. "This feels gross. I would go back to my room and wash it off, but I don't want him to come in there after me and try to say something." he glanced towards the glass window where the nurses were, grabbing his untouched tray of food and standing up. "I'm going to say something to them about how uncomfortable I am to be sharing a room with a pig." he grumbled, sauntering off with his tray.   
  
Kenny watched with his baby blues as the redhead walked away before turning towards Stan. His arm was draped over the back of his chair and he cracked that stupid grin of his again, flashing his tooth gap. "I'm surprised you actually did something," he said, "Usually, you kind of just sulk in your chair. Props, Marsh." he grabbed his tray and stood up, snorting. "You're his knight in shining armor, aren't you?" he offered one last sly smirk before walking off, leaving Stan sitting in his chair with burning cheeks.  
  
"Asshole," he muttered.

 

* * *

 

 

Night pressed against the windows by the time their last group of the day was finished. After that, the patients were allowed to either go to their rooms or hang out in the group room until the clock struck 10:00. Usually around the time the last group ended, Stan wanted to go into his room and close the door. The sooner he falls asleep, the sooner the next day can come and he can be closer to getting out of here... whenever that is.  
  
He was making his way out of the group room, rubbing at his tired eyes. It wasn't that he was actually exhausted, more so mentally tired all of the time. "Hey, Stan, right?" piped a voice and Stan could already feel the annoyance creeping up inside of him. He stopped and craned his neck to look over his shoulder, only to see Kyle behind him. "Oh," he said, turning and clearing his throat, "Yeah, hey."  
  
"The head nurse agreed to switch my room. I'm in room A5. I'm so glad that I'm not roomed with Cartman anymore." he grimaced.   
  
Usually, Stan would question himself why someone is talking to him so fluidly and comfortably, but with Kyle, Stan chose not to question it... mostly because room A5 was where he was, and Kyle was his new roommate. He was unsure if he should be thrilled or devastated that the bed beside him is going to be filled. He was sort of enjoying the silence of having no roommate, but still forced a small smile.   
  
"You're roomed with me, though." he said. Kyle seemed to be surprised by this, but in a much more delighted manner. "Really? That's a lot better." he said, beginning to walk beside Stan. Kyle just barely came up to Stan's upper arm and in the back of Stan's mind, he found it adorable. Of course, that's something he would never think of saying to somebody. The thought of getting into it with another person nauseated the raven haired boy and he wasn't going to touch the subject with a 40 inch pole, not after what happened.   
  
Kyle was following behind Stan when he flicked on the light of their newly shared room. Stan sat down on the corner of his bed, kicking his flats off and running a hand through his hair. He watched as Kyle looked around as if this room was any different than his other one.  
  
"...You don't have any other clothes?" Stan asked. Kyle looked towards Stan and then let his eyes sweep over his attire, arms crossing against his chest. "No," he said, lips pursing into a frown. "My mom is going to bring me some tomorrow. She wasn't able to today for some reason, probably something my dad told her." he said, plopping down on his own bed and dragging his fingers across the thin fabric of the sheets below him.   
  
There was something about Kyle that definitely stood out to Stan. Stan was always a reserved person growing up, especially since he didn't have his own group of friends to get along with or play with. There was something about Kyle that made Stan feel connected to him in a way but Stan was quick to push that thought to the side. The last time that Stan let himself think he was connected to someone, it ended horribly. He couldn't help but guard himself.   
  
Regardless, it didn't mean that Stan wasn't going to act decent towards Kyle. He was quiet for a second before he stood up, walking towards his bag and digging through it. Kyle leaned slightly to try to see past Stan, narrowing his green eyes. He was about to open his mouth and say something before Stan pulled out a maroon hoodie and sweatpants, throwing them towards Kyle. "Here," he said.   
  
They hit Kyle dead in the face, a small grunt leaving the petite boy. Stan couldn't help but crack a genuine smile at this, trying to hold back a laugh. He sat down on his bed as Kyle looked at the clothes, smiling. "Thanks, dude." he said simply, standing up. "They're just clothes." Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still," Kyle said, waltzing off into the bathroom so he could get changed.   
  
Stan listened as the heavy door closed, scooting back and pulling his legs up onto the bed. He pressed his back against the wall, letting out a deep exhale. It seemed that sighing was all he really found himself doing during his stay here. Kyle came out of the bathroom a few moments later, dressed in the baggy clothes. The sweatpants were too long on him and the hoodie came down to about his lower thighs. Kyle looked over his outfit and then back at Stan, giving a nervous little smile. "How do I look?"  
  
"...Comfy?" Stan offered. "You look like you're clothed, I guess."  
  
"Well, yeah." Kyle scoffed, rolling his green eyes. He sat down on his bed, watching Stan as the black haired boy rubbed at his dark blue eyes. "Are you tired?" Kyle questioned.   
  
"I'm always tired."   
  
"I understand." Kyle pulled his own legs up onto the bed, leaning onto one elbow so he could lounge on the bed. "It kind of feels nice to get out of my house, though." he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "My mom is really naggy. Both of my parents, actually. They're always wanting me to do things that I don't want to do and control my life... but aren't you supposed to let your child decide that on your own?"  
  
The atmosphere grew heavy with his words and Stan felt a chill creep up his spine. All Stan could do is find himself letting out a thoughtful hum, fiddling with his bony fingers. He was never too good at comforting people and it was surprising to see that Kyle was immediately being so outright with him. When Stan didn't say anything, Kyle continued; "I mean, I know they want the best for me... but what they're trying to push on me _isn't_ the best for me, nor is it best for my mental health..." the redhead seemed to look around, letting out a pitiful huff, "Obviously, right?" he gave a half-grin.   
  
"...Why are you telling me all of this?" Stan finally said.   
  
"I don't know," Kyle looked back up at the ceiling. "I just feel like you're somebody I can trust."   
  
While Kyle was occupied with staring at the ceiling, the words circulated inside of Stan's mind and the smallest smile came upon his cracked lips. He stared back down at his lap and chose, again, not to say anything. This silence was comfortable to him and he didn't want to say anything to ruin it.  
  
Except, Kyle didn't mind.  
  
"What are you in here for?" Kyle asked, looking over at him. The question made something tear inside of Stan. The question made him think back at what brought him into his place. A heavy feeling grew inside of him and his smile dropped, avoiding eye contact.   
  
"You're not supposed to ask those kinds of questions." he said flatly, pulling off his jacket and throwing it on the ground. He was wearing a white short sleeve and under the fluorescent lights, one of the reasons was right there in the open.  
  
Kyle's eyes swept over the boy, most importantly at the scars laced over eachother on Stan's pale, veiny arms.   
  
And Kyle understood.   
  
"Okay," he said simply.   
  
Stan shifted and crawled under his blankets, rolling over and turning his back to Kyle. He heard shifting and the sound of bare feet moving across the linoleum floors, towards the light switch. It wasn't long before darkness enveloped the entire room and the sound of the males feet padding across the cold floor came closer to Stan. He could feel Kyle hovering, that heavy feeling bubbling up inside of Stan's chest again. He just wanted him to go away. He didn't want him to say anything else.   
  
He felt cold fingertips touch his upper arm, making Stan tense up.   
  
"Goodnight, dude." he said, before Stan could hear him move away and climb into the bed beside him.   
  


  
  
"...Goodnight."   
  
  



	2. you hang me up unfinished with the better part of me no longer mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but i'm a constant headache

It had become a routine at this point — Stan would wake up in the middle of the night from one of his dreams. Sometimes he would wake up, chest so heavy someone might as well have been sitting on it.   
  
Sometimes he would lay awake after these dreams and feel so dirty inside of his skin. A part of him wanted to scrub down all of the filth that he was convinced he was suffocating in, use his nails to dig out the disgust that has been hiding underneath of his skin for all of these years. It was times like these he wished he was back at home, no, back at her home, lying beside her and feeling her breath ghost against his skin. Times like these where he wished that he was beside enough human, no matter what he went through.

 

And _every_ night, when he's coming out of the bliss of sleep, the warmth of the blankets wrapped around him are just enough to convince him that he's at home and that he's going to wake up beside her and everything is being okay.   
  
But that never happens and Stan is never greeted with the sickly color of pink and boy posters and the smell of Justin Bieber perfume. He's greeted with the darkness of his prison and the lingering, heavy silence of the hospital that reminds him that he's never, _ever_ going to truly be at home after this. His usual routine was to hop up from bed and rush to his bathroom where he could empty out all of the liquefied, pent up heartbreak, trauma and self-hate into the bowl of the toilet.   
  
Some nights, he thought that the embrace of the toilet was going to be the only embrace he was going to be able to stomach for the rest of his life. 

 

* * *

 

He hadn't had much sleep that night. He laid in bed motionless as he watched the sun slowly rise above the horizon from the small window in his room, sky turning from an indigo to an overcast, faded blue. As much as it was the bane of his existence to do anything but lie down, he still managed to pull his body upwards so that he could sit and stare out through the bars of the window. He watched as cars rode past the hospital, watched as day shift workers ambled their way out of their cars and through the parking lot of the hospital, holding their coffees and yawning into their hands. Stan envied them in a way  **—** it wasn't fair that they could come to a hospital and know that they were going to leave every night to be at home.   
  
Though, the thought of home when Stan's been fully awake long enough for the bitterness of his thoughts to settle like dust was nauseating. A feeling the boy knew all too well. He knew better than to sulk about it or pity himself. It's not going to get him out of there faster.   
  
He heard the faint sound of shifting from the bed beside him. He craned his neck to look over at the fast asleep redhead, curled up in his white blankets. Auburn spirals were spread across the pillow underneath of his head and Stan could see how the blankets would crease every time his chest rose and fell. Another thing he envied... people that could soundly sleep. He pulled his gaze away from the other, feeling bad for staring at him while he slept but fuck it, it's not like sleeping people know that kind of shit.   
  
...He cringed at that thought.   
  
He climbed out of bed soundlessly, letting his feet meet with the linoleum and slowly standing up. Every time he had to clamber out of bed made him feel lightheaded but it was a feeling that he had grown accustomed to. He padded across the floor and to the desk that was screwed into the wall, pulling open the drawer attached as quietly as he could. He wasn't sure if Kyle was a light sleeper or not but he didn't want to risk it. The few hours he had before they all had to go out and eat breakfast were the best hours of the day for him. Undisturbed, peaceful quiet.   
  
He took out a black notebook (not spiral, those weren't permitted on the ward) and a black marker (pens and pencils weren't permitted, also), climbing back into bed just as quietly as he had gotten out of it.   
  
He opened the book and thumbed through the pages. Some pages he would stop and admire a doodle or poem that he wrote, but he ultimately decided to flip through to a blank page in case he came across a page that ranted about something that would upset him. He popped the lid off of the thin, black marker and put it on the end of it with a small 'click' noise. His poems were never really  _happy,_ but he tried his best not to make them sound emo either.   
  
He began to scrawl words onto the page, spitting out everything that boiled inside of him onto the lined paper. Some days, his poems weren't really poems — more so just rantings that he feverishly scribbled as the thoughts came up. When days like those came around, he could fill an entire page with just feelings and feelings and more feelings, maybe even more than just a page if it was a bad day.   
  
He wasn't sure how much time went by when he heard more stirring coming from Kyle. He raised his eyes from the page he was so immersed in, pale hands stained with black marker. He could see that Kyle was slowly coming to his senses, raising a small hand to rub at his half closed eyes. That hand then went up into his hair, where his fingers nimbly ran through rogue curls.   
  
Green eyes cracked open slowly to glance around the dimly lit room. There was still a cool hue filling the room since the sun wasn't completely up and was mostly covered by the looming clouds outside of their window. They land on Stan and they see him, no matter how hard Stan was trying to hide behind the black cover of his notebook. "Are you hiding your face?" Kyle asked sleepily, voice drawling from his cracked lips lightly.   
  
"Yes." Stan said simply.   
  
A tired laugh came from Kyle and a familiar feeling arose inside of Stan. He swallowed, back pressing furthermore against the cold wall as he felt himself begin to write faster. "You don't have to do that, you know. You're not that bad looking." his voice sounded a bit more awake now as he pushed himself to sit up.   
  
Stan chose not to reply to this, instead only glancing up at Kyle and shooting what he thought to be a glare in his direction before looking back down at his writing. He didn't want to look at Kyle and Stan surely didn't want Kyle to try and look at him.  
  
But Kyle was oh so persistent and had a hard time taking 'no' for an answer, clearly. He heard the bed creak as Kyle stood up onto his feet, still dressed head to toe in purely Stan's clothing. He came closer and crawled onto the bed. "What are you writing?"  
  
Stan closed the notebook gently, placing it down beside him. "I don't know." he said, fingers drumming against the cover of his notebook nervously. "You don't know what you were writing?" he quirked an eyebrow. "Weren't you just looking at it?"   
  
This fucking asshole.

A grunt came from the raven haired boy, cerulean hues rolling. "Yes, but I was hoping that my passive attitude would give you an idea that I don't want to talk about it."   
  
"Sorry?"   
  
"..." Stan remained silent for a long moment, cracked lips pursed. "No," he sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. "I'm sorry, it's just early."  
  
The redhead leaned forward, the bed creaking lightly underneath of them with the movement. He craned his neck to glance out the window, a pensive hum leaving his lips. "Are they going to wake us up soon, you think?" he asked, seemingly dropping the whole thing that just happened. Yesterday, Kyle seemed like the type that had a hard time letting things slide off of his shoulders and out of mind as shown with the Cartman incident but he seemed to be alright with Stan.   
  
And that bothered him.  
  
He wasn't used to people being so patient with his moods. There was something endearing about that to Stan but he bit his tongue and just chose to respond to his question. "No," he said, "I think there's still a good few hours before that."  
  
"So, why are you awake?" Kyle asked, fingers drumming against his thin thighs. "You're full of questions, you know." Stan said grumpily, but rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Besides, I could be asking you the same question."  
  
"Guessing from the time I usually wake up, I'm assuming it's about 5:30 or 6:00. My parents always make me get up around this time, so it's just a habit." he said.   
  
"My parents usually let me sleep in. If they tried to get me up, I just fell back asleep anyway."   
  
"Even for school?"  
  
"I dropped out after a while. It was best."   
  
Kyle seemed baffled but understanding. He looked down at his lap, playing with a hole in the sweatpants that Stan gave him. "It's clear that our parents have very, very different views on some things. In fact," Kyle sighed, "I'm relieved that I can wake up for once and not have to get ready for school or work."  
  
"Mm."   
  
The birds were chirping loudly outside of their window. The high-pitched sound was enough to make Stan pinch the bridge of his nose again, bowing his head and letting disheveled black locks fall into his face. Kyle didn't seem to mind it, green eyes staring thoughtfully at nothing in particular.   
  
"Are you still tired?" he asked.  
  
"Like I said, dude, I'm always tired."   
  
"You seem awake enough to be sharing more than ten words with me, so that's something." Kyle looked over to Stan, a warm smile forming on his lips. Stan shrugged at this. "Why don't you go back to bed? It's Sunday, the nurses let us sleep in until 9:00." he said.  
  
"Seriously? Dude," Kyle beamed, unable to even string together something coherent to finish his sentence... so he just left it at 'dude'.   
  
Stan was actually surprised about how deprived Kyle was from most things. Well, from what it sounded like. Maybe Stan's parents didn't care enough to form structure and a schedule for him, maybe they didn't care enough to make sure that he would become successful. It surely didn't seem like they cared enough about him being hospitalized.   
  
"I don't feel like moving." Kyle spoke again, yawning. Stan glanced down at his bed, trying to decipher whether or not it would be big enough for the both of them... a lot of things popped up in his head, telling him all the reasons why he shouldn't entertain the thought of someone sleeping in the same bed as him  _especially_ in here.   
  
"Come on," he said, climbing out of bed and holding out a hand for Kyle. Kyle's eyes got caught on the lacework of scars that layered over on top of eachother on Stan's arm but his gaze quickly reestablished with Stan's, taking his hand. Kyle's hand was soft, and for a moment, Stan wanted to graze his thumb along the back of his palm like he used to do with her but the better part of his brain quickly shot that down.   
  
He hoisted Kyle up onto his feet and Kyle let go of his hand immediately, climbing back into his own bed. "Okay," he said, pulling the thin blankets up over him. "Goodnight... or good morning. Whichever," he grinned, eventually letting his eyes fall shut.   
  
It took a while for Kyle to fall back asleep and even longer for Stan to stop worrying about whether or not it's safe for him to move — he was too worried about waking the other up again. Sooner or later, Stan slowly made it out of bed quietly enough and padded off to the bathroom for a second. When he came back out, his gaze fell on Kyle.   
  
He looked so small in the hospital bed, especially since Stan could tell he was curled up from the outline underneath of the thin covers. He sighed, crawling back into bed and picking up his notebook. He opened it, flipping to where he left off. His eyes dragged across the page as he read line to line about his night terrors and his new roommate... but there was an obvious lag in the feeling of the writing and a part where it changed.  It was less pitying himself and more talking about Kyle.  If there's anything Stan noticed, it was that Kyle brought out a side of him that made him want to write about him forever, even in the short time that he had his notebook open around Kyle.   
  
Closing the notebook, he drew in an inhale through his nose. He popped the lid back onto the marker and got out of bed one more time so that he could put the items back in the drawer. He then crawled back into bed, fingers grabbing onto the blankets so that he could pull them over his lean body yet again and wrap himself in the warmth. His eyes felt heavy as he looked over at Kyle. The sun was peaking out of the clouds enough for rays to shine on the smaller, making his pale skin seem almost luminescent underneath of the sunlight. There was a part of him that wanted to tell Kyle to climb into bed with him, but that was more than likely the sleep beginning to overtake his mind. It was always like this when he was in and out of consciousness. He softened up.   
  
Even so, the last thought on Stan's mind was Kyle Broflovski.   
  
And he slipped into — for once — an easy sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 That familiar rapping filled his ears again, loud enough to stir the boy awake. "It's time to get up!" said the usual nurse.   
  
Stan slowly opened his eyes. The sun had fully come out, a large patch brightly lighting up a part of the light blue floors. He looked over to Kyle's bed, who was already awake and sitting up in his bed. Stan raised a hand to rub at his face, forgetting about the black ink that stained the palm of his hand.   
  
"Good morning," Kyle said, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed and standing up slowly. Stan made a tired noise at this, managing to sit up as well. His mind felt swollen and light, more than likely from the lack of sleep he's been getting. One thing he missed about home was being able to sleep for as long as he wanted.   
  
"I thought you were sleeping in." Stan said slowly, crawling out of bed and slipping his flats on. "Yeah, I wanted to. My body is just so used to waking up early that I couldn't sleep for long." he rubbed at his green eyes. Kyle's skin was flawless, free of bags and sunken in eyes. Stan probably looked like a zombie standing next to him.   
  
A sigh left Stan. "Alright, time to get this over with," he said. He began to amble off into the hallway with Kyle following behind him. Eric Cartman was stumbling out from his room as well, blinking his tired brown eyes. He saw Stan and Kyle, a sly grin coming over his face. "Is that your new boyfriend, Stan?" the boy chortled, following behind them at a reasonable distance. "It sucks you took my roommate, I was having fun fucking with him!"   
  
Kyle grumbled. "I'd shut my mouth if I were you, doughboy. We're about to pass the nurses station." Kyle sneered, small hands pushing into the pouch of the hoodie he adorned. "I'm so scared." they heard Cartman snort from behind and just then, the head nurse stepped out of the heavy door and glanced around. "Good morning, Eric!" she said cheerfully.   
  
"Good morning, Nurse Victoria!" Cartman said, feigning the innocence that laced his tone. He sped up enough to brush past the duo, flashing them a taunting look. Stan thought for a second that he would have to grab onto Kyle to stop him from doing anything, but thankfully, Kyle stayed put. "Do you have medication to take?" Stan inquired when Cartman was far away enough for him to say something.  
  
"Yeah," Kyle said, head turning from side to side as if he was looking for something. As they approached the line for meds, Kyle turned his head to look up at Stan. "Can we call people?" Kyle asked.   
  
"Yeah, but only during meal times. You could probably ask to use the phone once you're done taking your meds."   
  
Kyle remained silent, pensively looking off into space as the line moved forward. After a while, Kenny came staggering out from the hallway, clad in pajamas. The lanky boy came towards the line, letting out a long yawn. "Hey," he said, mostly to Kyle. "I'd wrap my arm around you, but you're not allowed to touch people in here."  
  
"Good," Kyle began, "I don't want you touching me anyway." he cracked a grin, crossing his arms over his chest. "That hurts, Broflovski," Kenny said, playing up the sadness in his tone. After a while, Kenny was unable to help himself from smiling either way. Stan watched the two, something akin to jealously rising in his chest. He quickly shook off the feeling, turning his back towards the boys as they talked. He had no room to feel that way, especially since he hasn't known Kyle for that long.   
  
Stan came up to the window once it was turn and went through the progress of getting his meds and having to down them. He then slowly walked off away from the window, slyly trying to make his way past the cart of food. "Marsh," said a startling male voice.  When Stan turned around, he saw one of the day nurses standing there — one of the few male nurses they had on the ward.   
  
The nurse loomed over him, bulky and tall and definitely intimidating. Regardless, the nurse forced a smile. "You have to eat." he said, taking out the assigned tray for Stan and trying to push it into his hands. Stan knew better than to argue with the nurses or else they would take precautions, reluctantly taking the tray and heading towards his table. He was the first one to slide into his seat before Kenny came over and plopped down into the chair across from him.   
  
"Where's Kyle?" Stan asked.  
  
"Phone call," Kenny said, taking the lid off of his tray and glaring down at the food distastefully. "My bread isn't even toasted."   
  
Stan leaned over so he could see past Kenny, watching as Kyle talked to one of the nurses over at the station. Stan wondered if they would ask him where he got the clothes.   
  
"Hey, you."   
  
Stan's eyes shot back towards Kenny. "Huh?" he said. "What are you looking at?" Kenny twisted himself around so that he could look in the direction that Stan was staring off into. Kyle had the phone to his ear, dialing a number. "Ooooh~" the blonde cooed, snickering and turning back towards Stan. "Checking Kyle out, are you?"   
  
"I'm not checking him out, Kenny. I was seeing if he was o- ... uh- seeing what he was doing." Stan stared down at his food, picking at the cold eggs. "This food sucks," he then added, trying to change the subject.   
  
But that wasn't good enough for Kenny. Kenny placed his chin on both of his palms, giving Stan this doe-eyed look. "Yoooou like him~" teased the blonde. "I barely know him." Stan pressed, sounding a bit snappy.   
   
"Do you want to get to know him?" the blonde leaned forward in his seat, flashing a beaming grin towards Stan. "I've dabbled in my fair share of matchmaking."   
  
" _No_."  


"Say no more, Stan." Kenny grabbed his tray and hopped up. "This food is shit, so I'm going to my room to do... _cupid_ things." he turned around and began to walk away with a happy step to his walk. Stan wanted to call out for Kenny but embarrassment ran through his veins so deep, the only thing he could do was bury his head into his hands. 

Kyle came out from the booth with Nurse Victoria following behind him, more than likely coming out to make an announcement about the schedule. Kyle slipped into the seat beside Stan quietly as the blonde began to talk.   
  
"Good morning, boys. It's time to put your trays up and head to your first group of the day. Today..."   
  
Stan was quick to tune her out as he glanced over to the redhead. Green hues stare down at the table, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. "You good?" Stan hesitantly spoke up, keeping his tone hushed so he wouldn't get yelled at by the nurse. The words seemed to startle Kyle, eyes popping up from looking at exactly nothing. "What? Me? Yeah," he quickly said, letting his lips crescent into a small smile. "I'm just exhausted."   
  
"... _Remember_ , all of us have a part to do." Nurse Victoria finished and walked off, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. There was the sound of chairs being pushed out and people beginning to file towards the cart to put their food away.   
  
Once everything was put away, everyone headed towards the brightly lit group room. Comfortable chairs were surrounding the perimeter of the spacey room with one rocking chair at one corner and a regular chair in the front of the room for the group leader to sit at. There was a whiteboard with scrawling on it from previous sessions.

Stan plopped onto the couch that was against the wall, pulling his legs up onto it and leaning against the arm. Groups were always boring but Stan was a professional at spacing out and drowning out noise. There really wasn't any group activity or therapist that could pep-talk him enough to make him motivated enough to listen. He felt the cushion beside him bare weight as Kyle sat down beside him, leaning back into the comfortable couch. His thigh brushed against Stan's slightly and even though it was the smallest of touches, that nauseating warm feeling rushed back to him.   
  
Unfortunately, on Sunday's their day started with a group lead by Nurse Choksondik. She was a short, overweight woman that kept her frizzy hair back in a low hanging ponytail. She had sickly features and a lazy eye that Stan found himself focusing on more than the actual group. The woman stepped into the room with a folder tucked under her pudgy arm, sitting down in the chair. "Good morning, boys. As you know, my name is Nurse Choksondik."   
  
This earned a few chuckles from some less mature boys in the room. "That's enough!" she snapped, opening the folder and shooting a glare towards the group of boys who were snickering behind their knuckles. She licked her finger and began to flip through sheets of paper, starting to ramble about what they would be talking about today.   
  
The group droned on and from time to time, Stan found himself slipping glances towards Kyle. He was intently staring ahead, clearly trying to be good and listen to what the nurse was saying. Stan knew that if Kyle had access to a pen and paper, he would probably be taking notes. That's just the kind of vibe Kyle gives off.   
  
Maybe Kenny was right. Stan was positive he didn't have a crush on Kyle, but he was opening up to him quickly and that's... something. Really, really something. Azure orbs glance around the room and land on Kenny, who's slouching in the arm chair he was sitting in and chewing on his nails.   
  
It wasn't long before the sound of someone calling his name snapped him out of his trance-like state. Stan's eyes shot towards the voice, a woman that was hovering in the doorway of the group room. "Stan Marsh?" she said, offering him an inviting smile. "Can I talk to you for a second?"   
  
Stan could feel eyes on him as he slowly got to his feet, walking towards the girl. She stepped out of the way of the door so that he could slip out, the black haired counselor slowly pull the door closed as to not disturb the group.   
  
"My name is Ms. Pearl," she said, extending a hand. The boy stared at her dainty hand for a few moments before taking it, giving it a weak shake. "I'm a counselor here at the hospital. I just want to talk to you for a bit, is that okay?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Great," she smiled again, gesturing for him to follow her. She walked down a carpeted hallway and opened the door to a small office, allowing him to enter first. Stan was frozen in his tracks when he saw the two people he hasn't seen in over a month sitting before him. "Oh, Stan," sighed Sharon Marsh, standing up and wrapping her arms around the taller boy. "I've been so worried about you." she said sympathetically, pulling away and looking at him sadly.  
  
Stan chose not to respond, dark blue eyes flickering behind her to look at his father, Randy Marsh. He stayed where he was seated, giving Stan a cold look. "Alright, now that Stan's here," said Ms. Pearl, "We can get started!"   
  
Sharon took hold of Stan's forearm, pulling him towards the couch slowly so that he could sit beside her with Randy on her other side. "Uh," Stan interrupted, "What exactly  _is_ this?"   
  
Ms. Pearl's dark eyes raised from her folder so that she could look at him. "This is a family meeting, Stan. It's required before discharge."   
  
A fleeting jolt of excitement shot through Stan at the word 'discharge'. "I'm getting out soon?" he said, voice sounding a lot lighter than before.   
  
"If this all goes well, yes." Ms. Pearl thumbed through the contents of her folder, "We will see."   
  
She crossed her legs and straightened her papers, placing them before her and looking over them briefly. "So," she began, looking up at the family with a warm smile on her plush lips. "What was it that lead to all of this?"   
  
"I'll answer that for him," Randy spoke up, words slurring slightly. "Nothing. Stan has it  _going_ for him at home. You know what I think? He got his heart broken for the one thousandth time and he thought that trying to kill himself would work."  
  
"Randy..." Sharon said.  
  
"That wasn't it." Stan growled.   
  
"What was it, Stan? Did you feel like you weren't getting enough attention at home?" he hiccuped, standing up. "You are a _man_ , Stanley Marsh. You are a man that decided to take the route of a troubled girl protagonist in a bullying movie."

"Excuse me," Ms. Pearl spoke up, "Mr. Marsh, are you... inebriated?"   
  
Sharon shot Randy an incredulous look. "You drove us here!" she said.   
  
"With a son like this, you  _HAVE_ to get drunk every once in a while." Randy turned back to Stan, continuing on his rant. "You flunked out of sports, you flunked out of school and you tried to flunk out of life. That's not how it works, Stanley."  
  
"Maybe I wouldn't have felt the need to try and end it if you weren't... like  _this_ _!"_ Stan looked Randy up and down, teeth gritting together and jaw clenching.  
  
"Like  _what?_ Fuck, I think Shelly is more of a man than you at this point, Stan!"   
  
"Then maybe it's better off for me to be here, right?" Stan stood up as well, fists balling. This was the first time in a while he was actually able to show his emotions. For the past month, the anger has been eating away at him inside like an army of termites. This was the final straw. "Haha, maybe it's better off if I stay here  _forever!_ You've made it pretty clear. You don't want me around."  
  
Ms. Pearl straightened her position, uncrossing her legs and staring at the duo with an ajar mouth. "Please, you two!" Sharon said, placing her hands out in front of her. "This is ridiculous!"  
  
"I think this is getting out of hand," Ms. Pearl quickly said, slowly bringing herself onto her feet. "Maybe we should reschedule—" 

"No, I think this is great. Everything is out in the open now." Randy said, "This is the most you've said to me in years, Stan. I'm actually surprised that you're standing up for yourself for once."  
  
"Fuck you." Stan spat.   
  
Ms. Pearl silently slipped out through the cracked door, quickly rushing off to find some nurses. Though, it's not like the two noticed in between the heat of their argument.   
  
"Randy, let's just go. I think you've said enough." Sharon said, forehead pressed against the palm of her hand.   
  
"No, Sharon.  _Your_ son needs to hear this." Randy's eyes bore into Stan's, swaying slightly but regaining his balance. "This is rock bottom for you, isn't it? You've done a lot of low things while growing up but this has to take the cake. You're disappointing."  
  
Stan couldn't take it anymore. He heard enough of this at home and he's heard enough of it in the period of time that Randy has been here. Anger rose inside of him, making his hairs stand up and forcing his breath to get caught in his throat. His knuckles were clenched so tightly that they began to turn a ghostly white. Stan quickly rose his fist, teeth clenched together to point his jaw ached.   
  
"Stop it!" yelled his mother, the brunette hopping onto her feet and taking grasp of Stan's fist before he could swing. Everything froze for Stan as everything crashed over him, a few nurses bursting into the room a few seconds later. Ms. Pearl lingered behind them with a frightened look dawning over her pale features and Nurse Victoria stared the two with an incredulous look in her eyes. "What is the meaning of this?" she spoke, two nurses standing near her.   
  
Stan bit down on the inside of his cheek and jerked away from Sharon. He began to walk forward, shoving his father out of the way and stormed out of the room. He heard the voice of Randy say something as he left but his mind was so clouded over with anger that any noises were drowned out of his mind. He came back around the corner of the hallway just in time for group to be let out.   
  
"Stan?" he heard Kyle say.  
  
Stan shoved this to the back of his mind, choosing to ignore him as he walked off in the direction of his room. Kyle began to walk at a fast clip in order to catch up to his roommate, having to sprint to keep up with him. "Hey, dude, what's wrong? You can tell me, you know."   
  
Stan turned around on his heel quickly, baring his clenched teeth. "I don't fucking  _know_ you, okay?! Stop trying to act like we're friends!" he bellowed, deep voice trembling as he snapped at the smaller boy. He could see something break inside of Kyle, just from the small changes his features made at the words. "Wha..." Kyle began, stammering over his words.   
  
"I'm sick of you acting like we're super best friends or something. I'm sick of everyone teasing me about  _liking_ you when in reality, I barely even fucking know you." Stan's words shot out of him like venom — and it was obvious that it stung Kyle. "And you know what?  _No one_ in here knows me. Especially not you, Broflovski. Just fuck off." he growled. He could see the other boys of the ward hovering around the scene and watching like hawks before he turned around and stomped off down the hall.   
  
There was a deafening silence that filled the ward in that moment. Either that, or Stan was just so angry that he couldn't comprehend noises or things. Once he made it to his room, he slammed the door. He could hear it echo through the hallways and shake the walls of his bedroom. Stan drew in a trembled inhale, staggering towards his bed and letting himself fall against the mattress, defeated. He could hear his heart beating hard in his ears, his entire body burning from anger.   
  
Everyone was so stupid. This hospital was so stupid. He was sick of it. He was sick of all of this. He felt a stinging sensation prickle up around his cerulean hues, raising a bony hand to wipe angrily at his face. "You're such a fucking pussy," he whispered angrily to himself, entire body shaking. He grabbed the thin blankets of the bed and cocooned himself in them, burying his face into his pillow and taking deep breaths. With each exhale, a little bit of anger began to leave his body... and eventually, he was calm enough to pass out.

 

* * *

 

 

A few times during the course of that day, a nurse would try to come in and speak with him but Stan would only wake up briefly and ignore them. They usually assumed that he was sleeping and left but opened the door from time to time to check if he was okay.  
  
He slept for hours, just like he used to when he was at home. If he woke up, he would force himself to go back to sleep so he wouldn't have to rake his mind and think of everything that unfolded that day. His father was yelling at him even in his dreams — the same words that he said to Stan echoed and bounced around his brain. The pain was still fresh.   
  
He found himself slowly blinking awake after a while, the light in his room burning his eyes. At first, he still thought it was daylight before he realized the lighting was too bright to be natural. He rubbed at his eyes, mouth dry and every bone in his body aching. He could hear quiet shifting around his room and since he was still a stage of semi-unconsciousness, it startled him. Stan was quick to sit up slightly and jerk his head to the direction of the noises.   
  
Kyle was sitting there at the desk, looking startled by the sudden movements. Looking at Kyle brought back an ache that ricocheted through his body. Stan chose not to say anything, sinking back down against the mattress like an anchor and staring at Kyle with a solemn look. A part of him didn't want Kyle to speak, not because it would annoy him or anything but because feelings of guilt would hit him hard... but of course, Kyle wasn't going to do that. The Kyle that Stan imagined in his head was much different than the determined redhead in the waking world.   
  
"Hi," Kyle said. He got up from the chair he was sitting in, slowly making his way towards Stan. "You kind of... uh, freaked out back there. How are you feeling?" it was clear that Kyle was trying to be gentle. Stan didn't need that. He could feel his lips purse into a frown, pulling the white blankets over his mouth and letting out a vexatious noise.   
  
Stan felt the mattress go down at the end of his bed where Kyle sat. His eyes watched the small boy closely before a long sigh left his parted lips. Stan threw the blankets off of him and sat up. "I'm sorry." Stan said outright.  
  
"Hey," Kyle looked at him with a sympathetic stare, pulling his legs up onto the bed and scooting closer to him. "It's okay, it really is. I know you were mad about something and it's okay that you kind of took it out on me." he reached out, placing a hand on Stan's upper arm. His touch was cold, sending chilling waves over Stan's body as goosebumps rose on pale skin. Stan stared at Kyle, his expression softening — that cold, sad feeling began to rise in his chest yet again. All Stan could do was draw in an inhale and close his eyes, unable to even look the boy in the eye right now.   
  
"Why are you doing this?" he spoke.   
  
"What do you mean?" he heard Kyle reply.  
  
His eyes cracked open. "Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me."   
  
This question rendered Kyle silent for a few moments, his green eyes dropping and staring at the mattress before looking back up into Stan's. "I don't know. I feel like I owe it to you. I mean... I know you're going through a lot. I could see it in your face the first time I saw you."  
  
When it dawned over Stan that Kyle was going to ramble, it plucked the slightest of nerves, but he still let the boy go on.   
  
"Like I said to you before, there's just something about you that's trustworthy. You don't have to trust me or anything and, dude, I'm sorry if I've made you feel like I'm trying to push friendship on you. I can back off, if you want."  
  
"No," Stan quickly said. He drew in another deep inhale, feeling the air fill his chest.   
  
And reluctantly, he slowly reached out and traced his thin fingers along Kyle's forearm. His fingertips ghost down until his hand is over Kyle's, cupping his palm over it. "I don't. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm just not used to people giving a fuck."  
  
Kyle was silent. He stared at Stan's hand over his for a few moments before raising his eyes back up with a small smile on his lips. "I give a fuck." he said simply. 

Stan's heart felt like it was going to explode inside of his chest. He couldn't take his eyes off of Kyle's, finding himself momentarily getting lost in the mossy shade of his soft eyes. There was something different about Kyle — in Stan's eyes, he's always seen the world in such a warped, shitty vision.   
  
But when he looked at Kyle, he saw something different. He wasn't sure what it was and he sure as hell had no idea how he was feeling, but it felt like his stomach was going to turn inside out on itself. His mind was racing and he couldn't help but act on a whim when he leaned in and steadied his lips over the others chapped ones. His heart dropped into his stomach but that could've easily been nausea, which is why Stan pulled away a few seconds later... but for once, nothing came up.   
  
The look on Kyle's face might've made something come up though. Kyle was staring at Stan with wide green eyes, starstruck from what just happened. "I'm—" Stan said, taking his hand away from Kyle's and quickly looking away. He could feel his cheeks burning and a nauseating pressure weighing low in his stomach, stuttering a little. "Sorry, I don't know what happened there."  
  
Kyle didn't respond but only raised a hand to brush his fingertips against Stan's jawline. This was enough to make Stan's cerulean orbs flicker up to look at Kyle again, breath getting caught in his chest. Kyle leaned forward, returning the kiss in a much more endearing and softer way. Kyle's fingertips were cold and Stan could feel goosebumps rise on his skin yet again, a chill rolling down his spine. That didn't stop him from kissing him back, though. After a long moment, Stan pulled away again and drew in an inhale.   
  
Kyle had this little smirk on his lips and Stan narrowed his eyes. "What?" he asked nervously. "Nothing, dude. I just never thought I'd see you blush." he said, leaning in and pressing a little smooch to Stan's jawbone. An annoyed noise left Stan's pursed lips, cheeks burning. "I don't, usually." he said, defending himself. He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "I've just never kissed a boy before."  
  
"I'm glad to be your first, I guess." a little grin came over Kyle's features. The sound of knocking on their door was enough to startle the both of them, Kyle making sure to scoot back so it looked like nothing was going on. The door creaked as it opened and a nurse came in with a clipboard. "Time for bed," she said, "It's 10:00, so lights out." she turned around and walked out, closing the door behind her.  
  
A little sigh came from the smaller boy, a stupid smile still drawled over his lips. He stood up, sauntering towards the light switch and flicking it off. There was a patch of moonlight that lit up a part of the linoleum floor and Stan could see Kyle's dark silhouette move through the darkness. For a second, Stan thought Kyle was going to climb into his own bed but he stopped at the side of Stan's. "Scoot," he said, and it took Stan a few seconds to realize what he meant.   
  
"We're not supposed to." Stan commented but shifted closer to the wall anyway. Stan laid down and pressed his body to the wall so Kyle had enough room to slip into the bed beside him, crawling underneath of the covers. "I don't care." he said in a low tone, moving closer to Stan and wrapping his arms around him. He wiggled his leg in between Stan's calves and sighed against his throat.   
  
Stan was reluctant but still wrapped an arm around Kyle, pulling him closer to his body. Kyle tipped his head up slightly and leaned in, pressing another kiss to Stan's lips. This time, it wasn't as soft but more ardent. It sent shocks of electricity through Stan's body and he had no problem kissing him back... honestly, his lips might have been softer than _hers_.

Kyle pulled away after a while, burying his nose into Stan's neck. Stan could feel Kyle sigh against him, hot breath hitting his skin. Stan's eyes fell shut as his fingers traced up and down Kyle's spine until he's sure that the boy is asleep. He can feel Kyle breathe slowly against his neck. It was nice, the warmth of another human being. It was nice to be next to somebody and not feel like you're going to cry.   
  
In fact, being next to Kyle and feeling him pressed against his body made him feel better than he has in years. Stan pressed a kiss to the top of Kyle's head and buried his nose into his soft, fragrant curls... and with that, he slipped into a relaxed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i actually published a chapter two for once hip hip hooray  
> this turned  
> so fucking homo


	3. rough time to be a lost soul, i'm sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> paralyzed by change,  
> scared to death that you might stay   
> the same

There was a constant ticking sound coming from a clock that hung on the wall. The room was decorated with fake plants and a tacky motivational posters. Stan sat in a cushioned office chair, staring at the empty one in front of him blankly as he waited for the doctor.   
  
Every Wednesday, each patient would have an appointment with their assigned doctor at some point of the day. Right now, the afternoon group was going on and it involved substance abuse and how some drugs work. It was the 4:30 group every single Wednesday and Stan was relieved that he had a pass out of it. He was getting sick of hearing the word 'depressant' and 'stimulant' and the constant droning about the negative effects of some narcotics.   
  
Right now, the only thing going through his mind was everything that had happened in the days that have passed... and more importantly, he was thinking about Kyle. There were a lot of thoughts bouncing amongst his mind about the whole ordeal. They had to be extremely careful about certain things, especially when they were out of their rooms and around nurses. The nurses watched everybody like hawks and if there was a single slip up, there would be serious consequences to their actions.   
  
That thought made Stan's heart sink into his stomach. In the past few days, sure, he's thought about how bad of an idea it was to be seeing someone in a hospital; but at the same time, there was a part of his brain that overshadowed the notion.  
  
There was something sparking from within him analogous to that of an adrenaline rush whenever he kissed Kyle. It was something he hasn't fell in a consecutive while and it felt as though in the periods of time he had his lips against Kyle's, something lit up inside of him.   
  
A deep inhale was drawn in through his parted lips. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the sound of the door creaking open caught his attention. The doctor came into the room with a laptop, a smile coming onto his lips when he saw Stan. "Hello, Stanley." the older man said. Stan wanted to correct him on that but decided to sink lower in his chair, simulating a smile and nodding in response.   
  
The doctor sat across from him, the office chair squeaking underneath of his weight. He opened his laptop and began to type, presumably logging in. "How is everything?" the doctor said, "Your medication?" he looked over to Stan while his computer loaded.  
  
"Fine," Stan replied.  
  
He cleared his throat lowly, typing into his computer and adjusting his thin rimmed glasses. "I heard that you had a family meeting the other day." he said, more than likely reading about it from his computer. Still, he looked at Stan yet again and asked; "How did that go?" 

Stan shrugged lazily. "It could've gone better, I guess." he frigidly responded.  
  
"One of our counselors informed me that you had a heated argument with your father during the session?"  
  
That was something he had tried not to think about for the past few days.   
  
"...Yes."  
  
"Stanley, you do know that for you to be discharged, you have to have a family meeting?"   
  
It felt as though a string snapped inside of Stan, annoyance bubbling up inside of him quickly. He wanted to argue about the statement and shoot him down — how did he expect him to get through a family meeting when his father put him down every time he saw him?   
  
No matter how miffed he was about it, he couldn't find the motivation inside of him to speak up about it. Instead, Stan began to nod his head slowly, dark orbs glancing down at his lap. "I do," he said, his tone coming out quieter than he anticipated.   
  
"I know it must be hard for you, but I think it's best that I schedule another meeting." he pushed his laptop away from him slightly, rough hands folding on the table in front of him. "If your father shows up inebriated again, we'll have no choice but to take manners into our own hands."   
  
Stan wasn't sure what that meant at all but a part of him was barely listening either way. He gave another nod, vision going in and out as he mindlessly stared off. "Is there anything you would like to add? Questions?" the doctors voice rung in his ears. "No," Stan said, eager to get out of the room. He wanted to skip group and slink off somewhere still where no one would bother him. The mention of anything that even remotely reminded him of home was enough to drag him down that same, familiar hole. No matter how suffocated he felt, he knew there was nowhere in this hospital he could get air.   
  
"That will be all, then." the doctor said, "Would you mind getting Kyle Broflovski for me?"  
  
Without saying another word, Stan rose from his seat and left the quiet room. The atmosphere that followed him was still heavy and Stan walked down the hallway, mind so clouded over he felt like he was floating. Ever since he could remember, this is how it was. The littlest of things could trigger a memory and it would suddenly feel like everything was underwater. It could take one word to make him dissociate into a darkness and a state of mind where he couldn't stop thinking about awful, terrible things.   
  
Stan swallowed, making his way to the group room. He could see from the orange shade outside of the windows and the saturated tint it left on the ward that the sun was going down. He opened the door and a few heads turned to look at him, including Kyle's — his mother had come the other day, baring a huge load of clothes as Kyle explained. Kyle was dressed in a dapper grey sweater with a black button down underneath of it. Unlike the other boys on the ward, Kyle actually got ready for his day. He told Stan that he was just 'used to it'.   
  
The nurse looked at him. "We missed you today, Stan!" the woman said. Thank the lord that he made it back in time for the group to be over. "Well, everyone... remember what I taught you today!"   
  
The boys were eager to leave the group room and get ready for dinner. Kyle stood up slowly, walking towards Stan and clearly trying to hold back a smile. "Hey, dude." he said, his voice enough to somewhat ground Stan. "The doctor wants to see you next." Stan told him.   
  
"Oh," he said, glancing off towards the direction of the office. "I guess I should head over there instead of trying to initiate cheesy small talk with you." there was a teasing lilt coating his words and he let his smile show, walking off to meet with the doctor. Stan couldn't help but let a small smile show, traipsing behind him and out of the group room.   
  
His thoughts still brooded bitterly inside of his mind, unable to stop himself from thinking about home. A sickening feeling came over him as a multitude of things came to thought, trying to push some of them to the side to think about the real issue here... an exhale left him, shoulders falling with it in an exasperated manner. Instead of heading towards the dining area, Stan began to walk towards the nurses station. He knocked on the door and a nurse opened the door, much shorter than him.   
  
"Hello," she said, "Are you here to make a phone call?"   
  
Stan cleared his throat, hands pushing into his pockets. "Uh, yeah," he managed, voice faltering slightly. He was allowed inside of the booth, glancing out from the glass window and studying the ward for a few seconds. His eyes then traveled down to the table in front of him where a black corded phone stared him right back in the face. He wasn't sure if he should go through with calling his house phone because there was the fear that his father would answer. All Stan wanted to do was speak to his mother, after all.   
  
He picked up the phone and began to press the numbers, listening to the beeps in his ear as he dialed. He listened to the ringing of the phone as he waited for someone to answer, lungs nearly caving in on themselves each time there was a pause. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the 'click' of someone answering the phone.   
  
"Hello?" said a deep voice. Immediately, his heart dropped down into his stomach and he found himself unable to speak for a few moments. "...Hello?" he heard his father repeat, anxiety meshing into anger as soon as the memories from the other day came rushing back to him. "Is mom there?" he said in a flat, calloused voice. There was a silence on the other end for a long moment. "Stan?" Randy said, voice clearly faltering.   
  
"Yeah," he said.   
  
"Hey, buddy." he heard his father say and Stan could hear the false sympathy lacing Randy's tone — at least, that's immediately what his brain shot to.   
  
"Don't."   
  
There was another pause. "I know you must be mad at me," he could hear a crackled inhale come from the other end, "but I'm sorry. You're my son."   
  
Stan didn't know what to say. He bit his tongue, frantically glancing around the small room as he tried to think of something to say. The paranoia that gnawed at him from the inside hushed to him that it wasn't sincere. "...Is mom there?" Stan said after a second, voice cold.   
  
"She's went to bed early."  
  
"Then I'll be going."  
  
"Wait!"   
  
His fathers frantic tone on the other line was enough to make Stan freeze. As much as the bigger part of his thoughts were screaming at him not to talk to him, to hang up and never speak to him again — he could still hear his innermost conscience giving him the initiative to stay.   
  
"...What is it?" Stan reluctantly said.   
  
"I'm sorry for saying all of those things to you, Stan. I'm sorry that I couldn't have been there for you when you needed me the most." Randy's voice on the other end was clearer now and there was something about his tone that made Stan's heart lurch. "I don't know what I would do if I lost my only son. I want to reschedule a meeting with the hospital."   
  
Though his apology was short and Stan was still wary, he still agreed. "Okay," Stan said. He didn't want to get too comfortable with this and maybe it was the medication that was making him be so patient and listening but he  _wanted_ to be able to trust his father — even if only for a short time and something ended up ruining it.  
  
"Thanks, buddy. I'll tell your mom you called in the morning."  
  
"Okay."   
  
"Bye, Stan."  
  
The boy chose not to say anything, slowly taking the phone away from the ear and listening to it click when he put it back on the receiver. His mind felt fuzzy and far off, oceanic blue orbs wandering off to watch the ward yet again through the clear window. He saw Kyle walk towards the dining area, mahogany curls flouncing with each step he took. Stan turned on his heel, leaving the booth and walking after the other.   
  
He glanced over his shoulder quickly to make sure no nurse was watching. The nurse in the booth was preoccupied with a magazine and it seemed like any other nurse standing around was momentarily distracted. Deciding to be quick, Stan reached out and brushed his fingers against Kyle's forearm. This stopped the ginger in his tracks, the shorter one turning around to look up at him with fern green eyes. "Oh, hey." he greeted lightly.  
  
"Hey, dude." Stan stammered a little over his words. "What did your doctor say to you?"  
  
"Nothing, really." Kyle mused, shrugging. "Mainly, we talked about my admission and arranging for my parents to come down here sometime." his eyes began to float off, continuing; "He said that I probably wouldn't be in here for long."   
  
Something twanged inside of Stan at that but he quickly brushed it off. The sound of Kyle's voice was grounding and made Stan feel safe in some weird way. He drew in a faltered inhale, wetting his dry lips and studying the other in an admiring manner.   
  
He wasn't thinking about his father or his discharge or Kyle's possible discharge, the only thing Stan found himself thinking about was the male standing before him. "Do you want to go to our room?" Stan rasped, keeping his tone low.   
  
The corners of Kyle's lips rose. "Duh." he beamed, quick to respond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi beans!! this chapter is short but only bc i wanted to get something out before tonight!! uvu 
> 
> i was going to make it all one long chapter but i took out the second part... things get.. ah, dramatic. 
> 
> i hope u guys are enjoying this!!!

**Author's Note:**

> ahahah hi its me back again with a style fic  
> sorry i kind of abandoned the last one it was more of a warm up than anything!!! 
> 
> i'm definitely going to try to stay on top of this fic bc i have a lot of SAD ANGSTY IDEAS ™


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